


Issues in ethical approval

by tatteredbookmark



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Consent Issues, Food, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatteredbookmark/pseuds/tatteredbookmark





	Issues in ethical approval

John dropped his bag with a thump on the sofa and flopped down next to it. The surgery had been an arse today – nothing major or serious (or interesting, a voice helpfully supplied) but just wearying. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment of feeling sorry for himself, before mentally cataloguing the known contents of the kitchen cupboards and fridge. There was distressingly little to catalogue, and he resigned himself to another round with the self-service checkouts.

"Ah, John, you're back".

John opened his eyes to see Sherlock hovering nearby, looking both fidgety and very pleased with himself. This was rarely a good sign.

"No, don't get up, I'll bring you tea". He disappeared to the kitchen, reappearing with a chipped mug of tea.

John peered at it dubiously.

"Of course I didn't, Mrs Hudson brought a pot up. Anyway, sit and drink your tea".

He disappeared back to the kitchen. Enthusiastic clattering sounds emitted from within.

At first John resisted the urge to check. It usually wasn't that difficult to resist checking up on Sherlock and his experiments – you never knew whether the results were going be noxious, poisonous, explosive or just disturbing. John liked to think that life as a medical student and an army doctor meant that it was hard to faze him but even he baulked at the collection of fingers that seemed to have taken up residence next to the yoghurt. It had been a brief look before he shoved the Tupperware box into the depths of the fridge, but he suspected that the fingers did not all come from the same body. The less he knew about them, the less he'd have to explain to Lestrade, the morgue or a coroner.

He became aware of a strangely intent silence. In some ways, this was even more worrying.

"You okay?" he called out.

"It's all under control".

For some reason, this was not the reassurance he was looking for.

Finally Sherlock emerged, looking somewhat smug, and put a plate in front of John.

"Sorry, it's only one slice of toast. We don't have muffins and we seem to have run out of bread".

"Yes, Sherlock, about that...wait. Are these poached eggs?"

Sherlock's only response was an exasperated 'are you being deliberately obtuse or is it just your tiny brain' look, which John decided was a 'yes'. He prodded the white carefully, then a bit harder. Golden yellow yolk spilled over the toast.

He ate, aware that Sherlock was watching him with an only slightly unnerving focus.

"This is really good Sherlock, I didn't realise you could cook".

"It's hardly difficult. Coagulation of protein, aided by a weak acid...any idiot could do it. The process is hardly more involved than a simple titration".

John mopped up the last smear of yolk with the last crust of toast.

"Actually, if this means I don't have to get food right now, I might pop along to the pub for a bit – a couple of people from work said they were going..."

He trailed off, watching Sherlock still and carefully avoid eye contact.

"Ah. Well. John, it might not be a good idea to go out just yet".

"Sherlock," John said, very calmly and reasonably. "Where did you get those eggs? What was in those eggs?"

"Nothing to worry about," Sherlock replied quickly. "Not much, anyway. It shouldn't have any long term effects".

"Sherlock, I told you not to experiment on my things – did I really have to specify that that includes my body?"

"But John, it's for science! Didn't you say you'd donate your body to science?"

"Yes, when I'm dead! Not right now!"

Sherlock looked mulish. John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright then, what do you need to observe?"

Sherlock's face brightened.

"Not much. Heart rate might be interesting – you brought your stethoscope home. The main thing is to tell me if you feel nauseous. Actually, you probably should get a bucket".

It was going to be a long evening.


End file.
